


With Words Unspoken

by winterfool



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Modern Thedas, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfool/pseuds/winterfool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a hundred different ways to say "I love you" without actually using the words. </p><p>A modern AU drabble collection, inspired by <a href="http://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you">this</a> post, featuring various Wardens, Hawkes and Inquisitors and their LIs. Pairings are noted in the chapter summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pull over. Let me drive for a while.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen x Lavellan

They had been on the road for hours. The sun had long since set, the last traces of pink and orange fading from the sky, and now the world outside was veiled in the deep blackness of night, lit only by their headlights and the occasional, brief flash as another car passed them. The Frostback Mountains were silent shadows sweeping past in the distance, distinguishable only by the faint gleam of snow on their tips.

According to the last sign they had passed they were still thirty miles from the Orlesian border. Eilidh stretched back in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, and looked across to see how Cullen was holding up.

He was tired; shadows had started purpling beneath his eyes and there was a slight slump to his shoulders. It wasn’t surprising; they had left around midday, only stopping for a couple of hours during the afternoon to get lunch and stretch their legs. According to the clock on the dashboard, it was now nearing midnight. They weren’t likely to find anywhere to stop before they crossed the border, though.

“Hey.” She spoke quietly, but her voice sounded loud in the quiet of the car. Although they had spent most of the day talking and playing silly travel games, in the last hour or so they had lapsed into a companionable silence. “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.” 

Cullen’s eyes flickered briefly to her and then moved back to the road. “You hate driving.”

“Not that much. I can handle it for a few hours. Besides, you’re tired.”

He frowned, and Eilidh wanted to reach up and smooth away the cares lining his face with her hand. “I’d feel bad. You’re only in this car because of me.”

Raising one eyebrow a fraction, she said, “I’m pretty sure driving was my idea.”

Cullen just threw her a look.

By unspoken agreement neither of them had said anything about it until now, but they both knew that Eilidh had suggested driving to Val Royeaux for Vivienne’s party because of Cullen. It would have been much quicker and easier to fly there, as most of their friends were doing, but Eilidh had seen Cullen’s face when Dorian started talking about booking tickets. His jaw had clenched and he had gone slightly pale, a hard, brittle expression clouding his eyes. 

Cullen had only told her about what he had been through at Kinloch once - and that was after they had both had a couple of drinks after a long, stressful day – but Eilidh knew it had left him with an irrational dislike of being confined in places without the option of leaving. Being stuck in a long metal tube unable to walk out, even for just a few hours, would be a nightmare for him. So before she knew what she was saying, she had blurted out that she found flying dull and thought it would be more fun to make a road trip of the whole thing. Dorian had just snorted, but Cullen had readily agreed.

So now here they were, nearly twelve hours into their trip with several still to go. Eilidh was tired herself, and uncomfortable, and just a little bit bored, but even though she could have been tucked up in her own bed, packed and ready to get a short flight in the morning, she couldn’t regret knowing Cullen was breathing easier here than he would have in a plane.

“You’ll feel worse if you fall asleep and we crash. Come on, pull over.”

He hesitated a moment longer, then gave a quiet sigh. He signalled to the side and pulled the car over to a safe halt on the hard shoulder.

Getting out, Eilidh stretched her arms high above her head and arched her back to ease some of the aching in her muscles after so many hours without moving. A cool night breeze brushed her face as she walked around the car, and she tilted her head to better feel it. The sky stretched out above her and she smiled to see that this far from the city, without the glare of lights, the stars were perfectly visible, tiny crystals glittering on a black backdrop. 

“Oh, look,” she said, leaning back against the bonnet of the car. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“The stars? Yes. There’s something … peaceful about them, isn’t there?”

She felt Cullen lean back beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. The feel of him against her was comfortable, his warmth radiating through her. 

“There’s Judex.” She pointed upwards at a diamond-shaped cluster above them. “And there … I think that’s Satinalis? I’m never entirely sure. But I always liked the stories.”

Cullen made a sound low in his throat. “I was never able to see the pictures myself, even when they were pointed out. I’m afraid I don’t know the stories.”

“I’ll tell you as we drive.”

Eilidh pushed herself up and started to walk around to the driver’s seat when Cullen caught her by the hand. She turned back to him with a questioning look, and found his eyes fixed on hers with quiet seriousness that made her heart flutter a little against her ribs. 

“Cullen?”

“I just … wanted to say thank you.”

“I told you, I don’t mind driving for a while.”

“Not that.” He shook his head. “Not just that. Thank you for doing this. All of it.”

Suddenly understanding, she gave a slow smile and squeezed his hand. “You’re welcome.”


	2. It reminded me of you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull x Adaar

It had been a week, three days and several hours since he had seen her.

Bull found it a little disconcerting that he knew that. It was even more disconcerting to realise that in that time not a day – hell, not even an hour had gone by when he hadn’t thought of her. 

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t the type to moon about over someone. Most of the time he wasn’t even the type to think twice about someone; he was used to one- or two-night stands, brief encounters of mutual pleasure that never went any further. That never made him examine his feelings, or start to think that perhaps he wanted more. 

He should have been busy lining up some more jobs for the Chargers; their stint providing extra security for some Orlesian nobleman’s stay in Haven was coming to an end soon, and Krem had been at him to make sure they had more work waiting for them when they finished. Except he was too busy remembering the exact shade of Isana Adaar’s eyes – a blue so deep they were almost purple – and wishing she was home from the magical conference she’d gone to so he could smell the lemon and bergamot perfume she wore on her skin instead of the shirt she’d left in his wardroom. 

Fuck, what had she done to him? When had this turned from casual sex into a relationship? When he had started missing her so much? 

It scared him a little, to suddenly find himself feeling this way. And yet, perversely, that only made him want her more. 

He was so busy examining his thoughts he almost didn’t notice the postcard stuck through his letterbox as he came in. The front featured a beautiful painting of a dragon, perched on a mountaintop with a plume of fire trailing from its jaws. An eyepatch had been drawn on it with a Sharpie, and Bull was smiling even before he turned it over to see the familiar, sloping handwriting.

_Dear Bull,_

_How are you? I know it’s only been a few days since I left, but it feels like much longer._

_I’m enjoying the conference. There aren’t many other Qunari here so I stick out a bit, but it’s all so interesting I don’t mind. I went to a lecture the other day given by a professor specialising in Fade Studies, and it was fascinating! He says you can see actually memories and dreams in the Fade at historically significant sites. I’ve also made a new friend, Dagna, who’s writing a thesis on Runes._

_Say hi to the Chargers for me. I hope the job’s still going well._

_I miss you._

_Isana_

_P.S. I hope you like the postcard – it reminded me of you._

He could picture her writing it, hunched over with her tongue stuck slightly out in concentration, her fingers covered in ink as her pen flew across the page, her white-blonde hair falling over her horns into her eyes. 

That was how he had first saw her, hunched over the desk for the Inquisition, where she was consulting from Skyhold University and the Chargers were working their latest job as extra security detail. It was that focused look that had first attracted him, that had made him want her. He had pictured her doing very different things with that tongue.

He had thought it would be a bit of fun. She was fun. Most of the time Isana was so reserved, blushing when he teased her and fiddling with the ends of her hair, but there was a spark behind her eyes and when she thought no one else was listening she would return his flirting, a sly bite to her words that intrigued him. The idea of drawing that fire out of her, of letting her tie him up and dominate him and then tying her up in return was too appealing to pass up.

They kept sleeping together because … well, because the sex was good and they enjoyed themselves. If she was leaving clothes behind at his place and he had a spare key to hers, it was practical since they had started spending most of their nights together. And then she had disappeared for a week to this conference and it was like she had left behind a hole in the very air; it was only with her gone that Bull was realising how she had crept beneath his skin and made herself a home there.

He ran his thumb over the dragon on the postcard.

_It reminded me of you._

It was strange and amazing to him now that just knowing she was thinking about him was all he needed to feel happier.

_Come home soon, kadan,_ he allowed himself to think silently, _I miss you too._


	3. No, no. It's my treat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra x Trevelyan

“Why, Seeker, fancy meeting you here.”

The deep, playful tone sent a thrill of anticipation down Cassandra’s spine, and she allowed herself a small, secretive smile before schooling her expression back to one of (she hoped) pleasant neutrality and turning round. 

“You’re late,” she said, arching one eyebrow just slightly.

Alexin grinned, laughter dancing in his eyes. He always seemed to be laughing, somehow, either in his eyes, or the lines playing about his lips, or even just a wave of his hands. He leaned forward, a faintly suggestive tilt to his smile, and replied, “I didn’t realise you were waiting for me. Or should I just be flattered that you know my schedule so well?”

Cassandra gave a derisive snort, but she could feel her cheeks heating.

Had she given herself away? After all, it wasn’t as if this was a … her mind stumbled over the word date and then immediately pushed it aside with a rush of surprise and embarrassment … a pre-arranged meeting. 

It had been her habit for some time to stop off at Fliss’s and get a coffee before work; she had a favourite table in the back corner of the café where she would sit and read the next chapter of whatever romance novel she was currently reading while she drank, happy to let the world pass her by for an hour or so while she lost herself in the fictional struggles of a Guard Captain or a Pirate Queen. Then several weeks ago, the thud of a coffee mug being set down on the table had distracted her from her book and she had looked up to find Alexin Trevelyan, a vague acquaintance from work, smiling down at her. 

He had sat down opposite her that morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that, and soon her routine had change from reading her book to talking and laughing with Alexin. It was strangely easy to let herself relax and feel comfortable in his presence, to become friends with him. 

(Or perhaps it was more than friends. Cassandra wasn’t oblivious, or stupid. She knew when his teasing became flirting, sometimes even returned it. But whether or not he was serious about it was a different question, one she didn’t think she knew the answer to yet.)

They never arranged to see each other in the mornings, never anything resembling “I’ll see you tomorrow”, or “I’ll save you a seat”, but she had started expecting it anyway. And despite telling herself it was ridiculous, she couldn’t stop the quiver of disappointment from running through her when he was late, as he had been this morning. 

Not wanting to tell him that, though, she opted for changing the subject. “It’s technically not ‘Seeker’ any more, remember?”

“Right. I’m still not used to that.” 

“I know what you mean.”

Even though both of them were now ex-military, it was difficult to truly leave that life behind. Handing in a resignation didn’t take away years of training, discipline and routine. And while in some ways the fact that the Inquisition, which they both now worked for, required them to use many of the same skills as the military had made the transition easier, it also made it more difficult to stop thinking of themselves as Seekers, or Templars. 

“Do you ever regret it?” Alexin asked suddenly, as they moved forward in the queue.

“Leaving the military?” Cassandra shook her head. “No. It was a big part of my life, but … it was not the same organisation I joined any more. It had been something I couldn’t support.”

“Yes.” He nodded slowly, uncharacteristically serious. His golden-brown hair had fallen forward, shadowing his expression, but Cassandra rather thought that for once his face would be all hard lines, nothing softened by the hint of humour. She wanted to reach out and stroke his cheek, to try and offer some comfort, but held her hand firmly behind her back and suppressed the urge. 

They were silent a few moments longer, then he looked back at her and the warmth and laughter was back in his eyes.

“Maybe if I just say your name enough I’ll stop instinctively calling you Seeker,” he suggested. “Cassandra. Cassandra. _Cass_ andra. Cass _andra_. _Cassandra_.”

Her lips were twitching but she fought back the laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Would you have me any other way?”

No. The word was on the tip of her tongue, but something held it back.

“Cassandra. Cass -”

“What can I get you?”

They had finally reached the head of the queue, and Fliss’s smiling face peered at them from over the counter. Cassandra was glad it was her and not the newest barista, Sera, who thought it was amusing to accidentally mix up the orders of people she didn’t like – and she wasn’t overly fond of Cassandra.

Stepping forward, Alexin spoke before Cassandra could even open her mouth. “One cappuccino, one vanilla latte with an extra shot of syrup, and two apple cinnamon muffins.” 

Cassandra quirked an eyebrow, but she supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised – or flattered – given that ordered the same thing almost every day. So she just silently reached for her purse as Fliss moved away to fill the order, only to feel warm, calloused fingers on her wrist. 

“No, no,” Alexin smiled when she looked up. “It’s my treat. Penance for being late.” 

“You weren’t that late.”

“Enough that you commented on it. You can get tomorrow’s if you insist, but today it’s on me.”

She hesitated, but this was the closest they had come to actually arranging to see each other and she was loathe to ruin it with protests. So she smiled, and nodded, and hoped she was managing successfully to conceal the pleasant flutter of nerves she felt at him paying for her – even if it was just a coffee and a muffin.


	4. Come here. Let me fix it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian x Lavellan

The steady ticking of the clock echoed loudly though the room and although he knew it was an inanimate object Carwyn almost fancied that the sound was reproachful, reminding him just how late he was. Frustration fizzed under his skin; he would have been ready on time, if it wasn’t the fact that tying a tie apparently required some kind of sleight-of-hand he was unable to master.

Scowling at his reflection, he fumbled with the material around his neck as he once again went over the instructions he had printed out from the internet.

“Cross, then wrap,” he muttered under his breath, “Under, over and then through and … _Fen’harel ver na_!”

Instead of the wide, elegant knot he was aiming for, he had once again ended up with something that was more like a light blue silk noose around his throat. Instinctively he went to run his hands through his hair (or perhaps to pull some of it out by the roots, that seemed like it might vent some of his annoyance) but stopped when he realised that would only leave his russet locks in disarray and mean more time spent trying to tame them back into place. 

A sort of angry gargle escaped from behind his gritted teeth, and with rough tugs pulled the tie from his neck and scrunched it into a ball in his hand. Not for the first time, he thanked Mythal that his sister was the mage in the family and not him; no doubt he would have set something on fire by now if it were otherwise.

So much for tonight going smoothly. He had planned it all out, surprising himself with his determination to make sure everything went well and that he made a good impression, but here he was. Foiled by a length of silk. 

_Su an’banal i’ma_ , he thought sourly at the material.

He had just settled the tie around his shoulders for another tempt when the soft click of the door opening distracted him. Turning, he saw Dorian leaning against the wall. He was already immaculately dressed, of course, his own dark orange tie perfectly knotted and lying flat against his crisp white shirt … a shirt which was perfectly tailored, fitted across Dorian’s broad shoulders and chest and tucked in at the waist to show off his muscled frame.

Carwyn sucked in a breath, and briefly wished they could skip out on the dinner. 

“While I’m all for being fashionably late, _amatus_ ,” Dorian said, voice light and eyes glittering with amusement, “I do think this might be pushing it, don’t you?”

“Just give me five minutes.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

A twinge of guilt plucked at Carwyn’s conscious, since he was, undeniably, making them late. He pulled a face and held up the offending and now somewhat wrinkled tie. “You can blame the fact that your shem clothing is so damn complicated.”

Dorian laughed, a deep, rolling sound that made Carwyn’s stomach clench despite his exasperation. 

“You’re late because you can’t tie a tie?”

“I’m glad you find it so entertaining,” Carwyn said dryly, as he started on the tie again. Cross, wrap, under … “I suppose I should be grateful it’s not that traditional Tevinter outfit you showed me. How do you cope with all those belts? Did you _shems_ have some kind of competition to see who could make their clothing the most impractical?”

Another chuckle. “Interesting theory. I shall have to put it some historians. Although it wouldn’t entirely surprise me if the old Magisters did just want to be the gaudiest peacocks around.”

He watched Carwyn fumble with the tie for a few more moments before shaking his head with a font sigh.

“ _Amatus_ , come here. Let me fix it.”

Carwyn gratefully crossed the room and let Dorian reach for his tie. He wished he could see what Dorian was doing, so he could make notes for the next time he had to wear one of these damn things – it took just a few quick, assured movements and his tie was immaculate. 

“There,” Dorian said, pulling Carwyn in by the tie once he was finished to steal a quick kiss. “Now you look like a boring, stuffy, albeit terribly dashing _shem_.” 

“Excellent, that’s exactly the look I was aiming for.”

“Then let’s go – if we hurry we should only be a few minutes late.” 

Carwyn glanced at the clock on the wall before following Dorian out. “Will your parents be very upset?”

“No, I don’t think so. If they are, I’ll just tell them it’s your fault.”

“Must you? I was hoping to make a good impression.” 

He spoke lightly, making the words a joke, but he felt a genuine flutter of nervousness. Meeting Dorian’s parents was important, not least because their relationship with Dorian was already somewhat strained and Carwyn didn’t want to add to that by making them disapprove of them. More than that, though, it was a mark of how serious his own relationship with Dorian was becoming, which was more than a little frightening. 

It seemed particularly important for all of them, in that case, that the evening go well.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Dorian turned to look at him, uncharacteristically serious, a slight furrow in his brow. “Things with them have always been … difficult … but I really do think they’re genuine about trying to make amends. So I don’t think they’ll be looking for reasons to dislike you. If anything, they’ll probably want your approval.”

“ _My_ approval?”

“They know you’re closer to me than they are,” Dorian shrugged. “Your opinion means more.”

Carwyn mulled that over as they shrugged on their coats and left his apartment. He hadn’t thought of it like that, but he supposed it was true. Dorian had all but cut his parents out of his life when they refused to accept him, and it was only in the last few months that they had started talking again. This was about the Pavuses proving they had accepted their son and deserved repair their relationship with him, which of course meant they would want to show they accepted, and were accepted by, his boyfriend.

Catching Dorian’s hand, Carwyn brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the palm to silently express his affection before giving his usual wry grin.

“Well. In that case I’d best practise my haughtiest expression on the way over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fen'harel ver na_ \- The Dread Wolf take you.  
>  _Su an'banal i'ma_ \- To the void with you.
> 
> Elvhen is courtesy of the amazing [fenxshiral](http://fenxshiral.tumblr.com).


	5. I'll walk you home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem x Trevelyan

The bar was hot and crowded, people forced up against one another in disconcertingly intimate ways just trying to push their way across the room, the smell of sweat and alcohol mingling heavy in the air. Low music swelled out from speakers on the walls to fill the background, which together with the general thrum of conversation made it nearly impossible to really hear anything clearly. 

Ysabel could feel the dull ache that heralded the beginning of a headache building in her temples. Her skin was flushed with the heat, and not even the couple of glasses of wine she had had were enough to ease all the tension from her neck and shoulders. She had curled herself up as small as she could in her chair but the crush of people meant that she was still occasionally clipped by elbows or bags.

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly midnight, a good five hours since they’d got here. That was a respectable amount of time; she had come, and joined it, and it wouldn’t look bad if she headed home now and climbed into bed where she could breathe easily and read a book. 

“Try and look a little less miserable, yeah?”

Ysabel jumped as Sera appeared at her shoulder and put a drink down in front of her before sliding into one of the empty seats at the table.

“Sorry.” Ysabel gave a faint grin. “I told you this isn’t really my thing.”

“Aw, come on. It’s all good! Good booze, good people, good music. Just relax, have fun. You need to.”

“So you said. I think that’s how you talked me into this in the first place.”

Sera chuckled, taking a long sip from her drink. “Nah, I talked you into it by mentioning that a certain pretty Tevinter boy would be here, remember?”

If her cheeks had felt warm previously, now they were positively burning. Her blush must surely have been visible in the dim lighting.

Immediately her eyes flickered towards the bar. Iron Bull immediately drew her eye, towering over the most of the other patrons as he did (not to mention beating them out in volume). And there, by his side, was Krem’s familiar strong, square-jawed profile. A grin was on his face, his eyes lit up with humour as he laughed at something Bull had said.

Ysabel’s heart gave a sweetly painful lurch against her ribs. This far away she couldn’t make out the details of Krem’s expression, but she could picture them: the tilt of his head, the dimple that appeared when he smiled, the faint crinkling around his eyes and the way one brow would quirk slightly upwards, drawing attention to the tiny white scar running through it. 

It was the way he looked when he told her stories of some of the more interesting security jobs the Chargers had been hired for – of which there seemed to be quite a few, which Ysabel couldn’t help but be grateful for since asking him about his work seemed to be the only thing she could work up the courage to talk to him about. Which was still enough, she knew, to be annoying. But either he didn't mind or he was incredibly polite, because his eyes didn’t flick around the room when he talked to her, like he wanted to be somewhere else, but stayed fixed on hers. And she, lovesick fool she was, always felt the rest of whatever room they were in fade away so it was just the two of them.

When he was paying attention to her. Which he wasn’t, currently. And right now Krem’s attention was probably the only thing that would have been more appealing than the thought of wrapping up in her very soft, very cosy duvet. 

Maker, no wonder Sera knew about her feelings even though she had never mentioned them.

“Yes, well,” she coughed awkwardly, “That pretty Tevinter boy has other things to occupy him. So I think I might just head home.”

“Nah, really? Come on, we can still have fun.”

Ysabel gave a smile. “I have had fun. Honestly. But right now I’d have more fun going home to my bed and a book. And maybe a bath. All the Bs.”

Sera chuckled. “Alright, alright. If you’re sure. You do you. But I’m here, right? If you change your mind.”

“I’m sure. You go, make trouble with Dagna or something. See how many things you can blow up tonight. Or don’t, actually, it was a nightmare trying to sort it out last time.”

At the mention of the dwarven girl she was sort of unofficially dating, Sera glanced over her shoulder. The red haired, button-nosed Dagna was leaning against the bar talking excitedly with Isana Adaar, but caught Sera’s eye and waggled her fingers. 

“Go on,” Ysabel said again. “I’ll see you later.”

She got to her feet as she spoke, grabbing her jacket and bag. It was far too stuffy to put the coat on in here, not to mention crowded – she would elbow five different people just trying to move her arms – so she folded it over one arm. Not particularly wanting to face squeezing through the crowd to the bar only to have to fight her way back out again, she settled for waving at Dagna and the others, then turned back to Sera.

“Tell them I said bye?”

“’Course. Get home safe. Enjoy the Bs,” Sera grinned, edging back into the crowd herself.

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

She quickly lost sight of her friends, swallowed up by tall backs. Shoulders, elbows and other body parts pressed awkwardly into her as she pushed through towards the door, and pain lanced through her feet twice as she stubbed her toes.

When she finally got outside the cool night air was a blessed relief, soothing her skin and filling her lungs. She breathed in deeply and felt the headache recede. Maybe being alone wasn’t what she needed, maybe it was just getting out of that bar. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and flicked absently though the contacts. She paused on a few friends and even her older brother, but none of them were likely to be sitting at home (and if they were it was probably with their significant others, so they wouldn’t thank her for the interruption). 

No, a bath, bed and a book were probably the right idea.

Pulling on her jacket, she didn’t notice the door open behind her until a pair of hands closed over her shoulders. Jumping, she whirled around – only to find herself face-to-face with Krem.

Heart pounding, dry-mouthed, Ysabel stared wordlessly up at him. She could feel her cheeks warming up again as he grinned down at her, and she found herself struggling to breathe despite the now ample air supply. 

He had come after her.

Why had he come after her?

“Hey. Sera said you’re calling it a night?”

“Mm. It’s just so busy, I felt uncomfortable … I had fun,” she hastened to add, suddenly hearing the implications in her own words. Shifting on her feet, she tugged awkwardly on her earlobe. “But it’s all a bit overwhelming, you know.”

Krem nodded. “So you were just going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “Well, I – um …” 

She trailed off as she realised he was laughing.

“Did you come all the way out here just to tease me?” She folded her arms, trying to look annoyed although it was difficult when she couldn’t quiet the voice in her mind whispering excitedly that whatever his reasons, he had come after her. He had left the others and pushed through the crowds to talk to her.

“No, not _just_ to tease you. I thought ...” He paused, then shrugged. “I’ll walk you home.”

Ysabel blinked. “It’s not that far.”

Why had she said that? He was actually offering to walk her home.

“I mean, I don’t want to tear you away or anything.”

“You’re not. Besides, it’s still late and it’s dark. And we didn’t really get a chance to talk in there, so …” He took a couple of steps along the street and held out a hand towards hers. “Come on.”

Smiling, Ysabel reached out and place her hand, which she was sure was shaking slightly, in his. His skin was warm against herself, his fingers slightly rough and callused, and she could feel the strength in his grip. Her heart was racing, and just that simple contact was enough to make her feel absurdly happy.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked, although they had already started walking.

“Not at all. I like the company.”

Ysabel felt like she was walking on air. And she knew she was going to owe Sera big time.


End file.
